


Distraction

by vassalady



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Fuckbuddies, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Pining, Praise Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/pseuds/vassalady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Monroe is in love with Steve Rogers, but since he can't have Steve, he'll sleep with Peter instead. Unfortunately, Jack can't remember not to get too involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the story in the Marvel Team-up issue where Jack meets Peter, and they go see the film _Rio Bravo_ together.

The movie gave Jack away.

Of course, Jack hadn’t expected to see Peter again, once Jack had ducked away to go save Steve’s art from that punk kid. Peter had disappeared (not surprising), but just as Jack was leaving, Peter ran up, making apologies about having to grab some photographs.

And then Jack couldn’t stop talking about that stupid movie.

“So Colorado loves John Wayne, huh?” Peter said, repeating Jack’s words.

Jack’s brain caught up with him. “Not-” Fuck, fuck. “He admires him, wants to be like him, of course. That doesn’t mean-”

Peter held up his hand. “Nah, I get it.” He grinned at Jack, and there was something in his expression that eased the stone in Jack’s stomach. Or maybe it just made it worse. “Hey, we’re not far from my place. Want to grab a beer or something after you get that delivered?”

So Jack wound up at Peter’s place. He had a nice apartment, and nice pictures, too. There were lots of group photos of smiling teenagers and young adults. There were attractive women, but some attractive men, too. Very few had Peter in them, however.

“I’m always here, see,” Peter said, indicating the other side of the camera. He pointed out a couple of the people, but their names didn’t make an impression on Jack.

They got their beers, but things didn’t stop there. Jack couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there, but at some point, Peter asked, “So your John Wayne has someone else?”

Jack looked down into his empty bottle. A shameful flush crossed his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly, thinking about the way Steve moved, how he carried himself, both in uniform and out. He thought of Steve’s smile and his voice, that voice that settled low and comforting in Jack’s chest.

He thought of how he couldn’t keep up with Steve. He thought about how Steve was always turning his adoring gaze to Bernie. And she deserved it. God, she was so good.

Jack would never know the end of that gaze.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack replied. “Thanks for the beer.”

He stood to go, but Peter’s hand stopped him. “You know, you want to let off some steam, I’m here.”

Jack hesitated. He wasn’t sure he knew what Peter was offering. There was a shadow of doubt behind Peter’s intense gaze that made Jack think maybe Peter didn’t know what he was offering.

Jack glanced to the door. If he left now, he wouldn’t ever come back.

Jack didn’t leave.

\--

_”So, what’s-his-name, your John Wayne…. Steve? I’ll be Steve for you.”_

\--

One way or another - between Jack tagging along with Steve and being a definite hindrance instead of help - Jack saw Peter more or less regularly. Peter had a hectic, unpredictable schedule, too, but Jack found himself always anxious for _next time_.

Right now, Jack was naked, on his knees between Peter’s legs, mouth open and full of Peter’s cock. Peter wasn't wearing any pants or underwear, but he still had on a shirt and socks. The discrepancy between them made Jack hot all over, despite the cool air brushing his skin.

Peter wasn’t really aroused; his semi-soft cock rested in Jack’s mouth, and Peter didn’t pay any attention to Jack. He kept his eyes focused on the open textbook beside him, and he only moved to pop another pretzel in his mouth.

Jack could deal with the position easily. Failed supersoldier though he was, he had the stamina. He didn’t have the patience, though. It was torture sitting there with Peter’s cock in his mouth and not able to do anything with it.

Jack breathed carefully through his nose and imagined it was Steve’s cock in his mouth. That Steve wanted him to wait.

It made it a lot easier.

He lost track of the time that way. At some point, gentle fingers started playing with his hair. He looked up into Peter’s eyes. Peter smiled at him and scratched his head again. “Good boy,” he said. “Good Jack.”

The cock in Jack’s mouth felt heavier, thicker. The textbook was now closed, and the bowl with the pretzels was almost empty.

“Here,” Peter said, and he pushed Jack’s head back slowly, until Peter’s cock slipped out of his mouth. Peter’s cock, hardening now, bobbed up.

With a surprisingly firm grip, Peter took Jack’s jaw and tilted his head upward. “Jack,” he said, “I want you to suck me off. And then I want you to warm my cock again while I finish studying. Then I’m going to fuck you. Okay?”

Jack wet his lips. “Yes,” he said, quietly and a little hoarse. He felt heat pool low with anticipation. Peter studied Jack’s face for a moment longer before nodding and letting Jack slip back down toward his cock.

As Jack wrapped his lips around the head of Peter’s cock, he wondered what it would be like to take Steve in his mouth. He’d be bigger than Peter, thicker, but maybe not longer. And instead of the wiry dark hair, Steve’s would be just a shade darker than golden.

Jack relaxed and took Peter deeper in. Above him, Peter groaned. “Yeah… Just like that… Oh, Jack...”

The way Steve would say Jack's name, broken and breathy… That was what Jack wished he could hear.

Jack continued to work over Peter, bringing up his hand to stroke the base of Peter’s cock and then slip underneath to cup his balls. He tugged gently on the sac, and Peter peppered him with praises.

“Fuck, yes… Just like that…. Damn, you’re good at this, Jack, anyone told you?”

The praise made Jack feel lightheaded. He blushed even as he licked widely along Peter’s cock.

He wished the praise didn’t affect him as much as it did, but it made Jack ache, both in his chest and in his groin. His cock left damp streaks on his belly.

Peter’s hand found his hair, and he urged Jack to take him in deeper. “I know you can do it… Come on, buddy, just a bit more.”

Jack complied. He took Peter in as far as he could, until he couldn’t breathe, and he gagged around Peter’s cock. As he came back up for air, Peter let out a drawn out moan.

“Perfect… Just once more, Jackie, come on…”

Jack went down on Peter again. This time, he was able to suppress his gag reflex, and Peter took the opportunity to fuck just a little bit deeper into Jack’s throat.

God, if Jack kept his eyes closed, it could be Steve he was doing this to. Peter felt so big, and his grip on Jack’s head was so strong. The hands were just a little too small, but otherwise, fuck, it was Steve’s cock he was sucking.

Peter pushed at him, and Jack came up. He kept his lips tightly wrapped around the head of Peter’s cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, oh, god, Jack, fuck,” Peter panted above him. Jack massaged Peter’s balls and then moved up to the shaft. Peter came, and Jack swallowed as Peter filled his mouth. It was bitter and unpleasant, but Jack accepted it all the same, because if Peter were Steve, Jack would want every drop.

Steve’s would taste better though.

Peter’s fingers toyed with Jack’s short hair, making it stick up. “Good boy,” he murmured, “good Jack. You like helping out, right?”

Jack whined around Peter’s cock. If only he could help out. Help Steve. If only he weren’t such a failure.

“Hey, now.” Peter gently lifted Jack’s face free of his crotch and brought Jack to rest against his thigh. Peter continued to stroke Jack’s hair. “There we go. Get your breath back, and then you can keep my cock warm for me until I’m ready to go again. Then we can take care of you.”

Peter nudged Jack’s balls with the top of his socked foot. Jack shuddered at the touch and moaned against Peter’s thigh. Peter made shushing noises all the while petting Jack.

What if it were Steve, though? What if it were Steve’s fingers painting invisible pictures across Jack’s scalp? Jack felt guilty for wanting Steve. It didn’t matter that Peter had told him to imagine Steve, the guilt sat low and uncomfortable in his belly, a constant, gnawing ache. Peter was a good guy, but he wasn’t _Steve_.

It didn’t help that he was so hard, and he had been for a while now. He wanted to rut against the couch or Peter’s leg. But if he did that, he wasn’t sure if Peter would fuck him, and that’s what Jack really wanted.

Peter’s petting slowed down, until his fingers slipped beneath Jack’s chin once more and lifted it up to meet Jack’s eyes. “You ready?”

Jack nodded.

He followed Peter’s touch, settling back into position on his knees between Peter’s thighs. He took Peter’s soft cock gently in his mouth and found a position that allowed him to breathe through his nose while holding as much of Peter’s cock in his mouth as he comfortably could.

Peter hummed his approval and went back to his textbook.

This second study session stretched on and on. It wasn’t that long; Jack gave up counting the slow ticks of the clock, but he knew that not much time had passed. But Peter had promised to fuck him, and Jack wanted him inside, pounding away, and Jack could let himself go, could let the control slip, and just be-

But Peter wasn’t ready yet.

This time around, he was truly soft, not the fluctuating semi-hardness that had rested against Jack’s tongue before. Peter had spent himself down Jack’s throat, and only time would allow him to recover.

Jack’s own erection didn’t flag as he waited for his turn, the anticipation keeping him hard and wanting.

Finally, excruciating minutes later, Jack felt Peter’s cock shift. As the blood slowly filled his cock, Peter’s fingers drummed on the edge of his textbook. His gaze, however, was not on his book but on Jack. Jack, feeling a rush of shame suddenly, at this position, at Peter’s gaze, at Peter watching Jack humiliate himself like this, flushed and shut his eyes tightly. 

Underneath that all, _want_ and _need_ rolled through him, too.

“What would I do without you here, Jack?” Peter cupped Jack’s face, but he didn’t slip Jack off yet. His hands felt cold against Jack’s hot cheeks. “I’d get so cold, I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. But you were here, and you did so good. Your mouth is so hot, and you’re so still. No teeth. So good.”

Peter’s words rushed through Jack like hot oil. They were so right, but so wrong, too, it was what Jack wanted to hear, but not from Peter, Peter wasn’t the one who should be saying these things, it should have been Steve, god, he wanted Steve to tell him his mouth was so hot and so good, god-

“Please,” Jack gasped out, Peter’s cock falling from his lips. “Please, fuck me, please.”

Peter’s face darkened. For one, heart-stopping moment, Jack expected him to say no. To turn Jack away, because Jack had failed, he hadn’t waited, why the hell was he always rushing everything?

And then Peter tilted Jack’s head back so that Jack was looking up at Peter head-on. “Alright,” Peter said.

The sting at Jack’s eyes meant nothing.

Although Peter was not a large man, he did have a surprising strength. It was that strength Jack loved. Even as Peter stretched him (and although Jack had stretched himself earlier at home, silently as Steve slept, it felt like hours ago,) his free hand gripped Jack’s hip with a near superhuman strength.

Jack pushed back against Peter’s fingers that worked him open. He wanted more. He wanted Peter’s cock buried in him to the hilt. He wanted to forget it was Peter.

With this, it was easy. Peter chattered as he finished prepping Jack, telling him he was good and so loose and so open and so ready for him, but as Peter began to slide in, he tapered off into silence.

Inside Jack, Peter felt as thick as Steve likely was. Peter’s hands, though not as wide as Steve’s, gripped Jack’s hips hard enough. And he fucked into Jack hard, fucked Jack into the cushion that lay beneath him on the floor.

One moment, it was Peter thrusting in and out of Jack, adjusting to hit his prostate more often than not, and then the next, it was Steve holding Jack down, Steve reaching for Jack’s hand and enclosing it in his and fucking into Jack’s tight heat.

Jack pressed his face hard against the floor, shocks of pleasure racing through him with each thrust. He moaned out, “Steve, please, yes, ahhh, Steve.”

Just like this (although Steve would take him in bed). Just like this (although Steve would kiss his neck, his shoulders, his back.) Just like this (although Steve would leave more than just quickly fading handprints on his hips to mark Jack as Steve’s.)

Just like this, and Jack reached beneath him and pulled at his cock, trying to get off and stop himself from coming at the same time. He let out a frustrated groan in the confusion, and then Peter was across his back, still snapping his hips against Jack’s ass as he fucked deep into him, and his hand pushed Jack’s aside on Jack’s cock.

It was like this that Jack came over the pillow, with Peter fucking him hard and fast and twisting his cock until Jack couldn’t hold back any longer. Everything went light and airy with his orgasm, and he collapsed onto his forearms. His hips stayed up only because of Peter holding him there as he continued to thrust in and out, in and out, until he came, buried deep in Jack, with a throaty moan.

Then they both fell the rest of the way to the floor.

They lay like that, Peter’s cock still inside Jack, softening until he could slip out easily and roll to the side. Jack felt the slide of come down from his asshole to his balls. He needed to clean up, but he felt boneless, drunk, and strangely heavy. With Peter laying on his back beside him, a stupid grin on his face, it seemed inappropriate to move just yet anyway.

Peter reached out a hand to stroke Jack’s cheek. Jack turned his face away. “You’ve got spunk all over it.”

Peter looked at his hand for a second. “Dude, you sucked on my cock all afternoon. Like a fucking lollipop.”

Jack could feel the heat rise to his face. He didn’t blush prettily, he knew. He didn’t want to blush prettily, but the blotchiness of his deep red blush only further embarrassed him. “It’s gross when you talk about it like that after the fact.”

Peter sighed. Jack could hear the frustration. “Fine, whatever. Here I thought you were into it, but if you aren’t-” Peter moved to get up, but Jack grabbed his arm before he was out of reach.

“No, I-” Jack bit his lip. Fucking hell. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t good at talking or communicating. It made it easier because Peter was so willing to talk most of the time. That wasn’t to say Jack didn’t talk, but he always said the wrong thing. Like giving himself away after the movie.

So Jack dispensed with the explanation, because he would only fuck it up, and asked instead, “Can I come later this week?”

Peter grinned down at him. “Sure. Call first to make sure I’m in though.”

Peter was good to Jack. It could have gone so wrong, but somehow, it had ended up going so right. Maybe, maybe one day, Jack wouldn’t want to imagine Steve. It would just be Peter.

When Jack returned to Steve’s apartment that evening, he still had Peter’s come seeping into his underwear as Steve welcomed him home. Jack couldn’t look Steve in the eye. 

That night, after they came back from patrol, Jack fingered himself in the shower until he came, Steve’s name strangled in his throat.

\--

Steve and Bernie were on the couch, kissing, laughing, half dressed. It was perhaps the hardest part of living with Steve. He and Bernie were so much in love, and they tended to forget that Jack existed. It wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on them in the middle of foreplay.

Jack mumbled his excuses and apologies to Steve and Bernie, both of them red, and escaped the apartment. 

Jack spent the next hour wandering the streets. However, October was wearing on, and he’d forgotten his jacket. He found himself not far from Peter’s place. It wouldn’t hurt to see if he was in. Jack didn’t really have any other friends to crash with anyway.

If Bernie weren’t a good person, it’d be easy to hate her. The problem was Jack did like her. He liked her a lot, and Steve liked her a lot, and Jack was never of real interest to either. He wouldn’t ever be.

When Jack knocked on Peter’s door, it swung in a couple inches. Really, Peter needed to take better care. Anyone could take advantage and rob Peter blind. If Peter was in, he could surprise him. If not, then Peter probably wouldn’t mind if Jack borrowed a jacket and made sure his door was locked.

Jack stepped in. 

There wasn’t much of a foyer, but Jack had to take a few steps inside to see around the wall into the living room.

On the couch, facing away from Jack, Peter sat with a pretty red-haired woman, kissing her deeply.

Although their positions were highly similar, Peter and this woman were not laughing like Bernie and Steve. Instead, they seemed solely focused on each other with an intensity that Jack had never seen from Peter.

Jack stared, frozen to the spot, as Peter bent the young woman down out of sight. He stayed above her, still in Jack’s view, as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside.

The shirt landed at Jack’s feet. It was one Peter had worn last time he and Jack had sex.

Jack stared at it for a moment. He’d gotten come over it as he’d ridden Peter on that very couch in front of him. He looked up, and at the same instance, Peter glanced over.

Only a second or two passed. To Jack, it might as well have been an eternity. He saw the surprise in Peter’s face. The surprise stayed there, not giving any other emotion away. Fear? Relief? Disinterest?

Jack didn’t want to know what would follow.

With effort, he pulled himself away. He shut the door quietly, as if that would make much difference now, and then took the stairs down to the ground floor two at a time.

Outside, he kept up a casual walk until he rounded the corner. Then he punched a brick wall.

A couple walking his way froze and stared. “The fuck you looking at?” Jack yelled. He punched the wall again. The couple hurried on their way.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

His hand was on fire. Nothing seemed broken, but he cradled it against his chest as he continued walking. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He didn’t know why he’d thought that Peter might- No. It was stupid. Of course it was just a sex thing. It was just a sex thing to Jack. They’d laid that out the first time. Peter was there to help Jack play out his sordid fantasies, nothing more.

Why Jack had even _considered_ -

Fuck.

How pathetic was he? Pathetic enough to win loser of the year, that’s what. Hell, Jack was loser of the century. Pining after some perfect idol like a snot-nosed brat, and then thinking-

Jack hadn’t thought anything. Fuck Peter. It had just been sex.

No, it wasn’t even that. It was a distraction. Jack had been bored. That’s all. There wasn’t anything to get worked up about. Just a distraction.

And hell, if Jack wanted a distraction, he could have his pick here in good old New York. A brawl, sex, whatever, Jack didn’t care what it was.

Anything to keep him from thinking about Steve. About Pe-

Fuck.

\--

“You got a name?”

The guy was decently attractive. Big, but not brawny. A little on the old side, but he’d do. Jack already had his hand down the guy’s pants when he answered, “Just call me Colorado.”


End file.
